I’m not a fan of radio. Anyone will tell yer! They’ll say….”Phyllis, he doesn’t like the radio”, pointing in my direction and jabbing to make the point stick.
I’ll nod, pull up a chair, and sit on it backwards, telling them why. I don’t like people talking over music. I don’t like most music. And I don’t like the stinking public, who phone in to talk about their boring lives and trying to win a day off with Plan B.
I don’t know what that means really.
I’d like radio more if it was presented in a style I liked and appreciated. As in, deranged, cruel, dark, horrifying.
“That was the barking dogs hour – 60 minutes of the best barking dog noises, all hour. Uninterrupted mate, uninterrupted. That particular hour contained doberman, daschunds, German Sheperds, all of ’em. All of ’em.
I’m Benny Chipotle, and you’re listening to Chungus FM. (Named after Jim’s classic word, of course)
Coming up! Your shit phonecalls, wasted time and effort for nothing. Call in and tell me what you’re doing and I’ll pretend to care, which I don’t. Here’s a new one; it’s four minutes of a dot matrix printer printing out a nude picture of a woman. Fuck off.
Sort of like that. Imagine more of it….
“Yep, a fine recording there. Vegetable Garden, with Limpet Limp Dick you Prick. Tons of fun. They’ll be in the studio next week, bringing some of their cum for you cunts to win, and drink, if you fucking want.
Paul from Deal phoned us. The fucking wank has nailed his head to his knee. Bellend. For you, Paul, here is Screaming Screamers with The sound of screaming.”
*Four minutes plays of just hysterical screaming. The dj can be heard throughout, wanking to orgasm*